


Remind Me So I Can Forget

by MorganEilish



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Choking, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex, Vampire Sex, brief mention of child murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 17:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17491904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganEilish/pseuds/MorganEilish
Summary: She saw to the needs of the ritual they would perform when the time came and Sylas saw to both the defenses of their efforts and her needs. He humored her with Cassandra, promising not to feed off of the girl. He forced her to stop and rest when he felt she’d worked herself too hard. He distracted her from the nightmares when they plagued her. She didn’t talk about them. She didn’t need to. He just seemed to know.





	Remind Me So I Can Forget

He wasn’t the same after. He wasn’t the man she’d married. But then again, she wasn’t the same woman she was then either. The Whispered One had changed them both, some days she was not sure it was for the better. But if given the chance to change things, she knew she wouldn’t. She still loved him with all her being and the promises she’d made, the horrors she’d committed - they’d committed - seemed worth it.

At first he felt Wrong. Unnatural. Perhaps because he was. She pushed that aside until it no longer mattered. He was still hers. That, she convinced herself, was what was important.

Still, it was months before she was able to wake beside him without panic gripping her heart at the sight of his sleeping form. His body was cold and unmoving, pale skin, no heartbeat, warm only in the places it touched hers through their rest. Some days the fear still came back to her. She’d wake from nightmares, turning to see his lifeless body lying in the dark and for a moment she’d think she failed - that he’d succumbed to his illness. Then he’d awaken, pulling her closer and the moment would pass. The memories of what she’d done would come flooding back to her.

After Whitestone fell to their hands, the nightmares became more frequent. She dreamt of the horrors her team committed to the de Rolos. She heard the screams of children as the Doctor carried out her experiments on them. She heard their parents begging for mercy as they were forced to watch in horror. She watched her husband kill them when the Doctor was finished, draining them of their blood one by one.They’d kept one alive. Two technically, though the boy had escaped. She’d always wanted a daughter, but knew she’d never have one of her own now. Sylas couldn’t give her that and she wouldn’t stray from his bed, even though he said she could.

She didn’t let her dreams get in the way of what needed to be done. The Whispered One had fulfilled his end of their pact and she would fulfill hers. The construction had begun. Acrid smoke pumped out of the distillery the Doctor had set up and was manufacturing residuum much faster than they’d expected. Her husband’s presence and the presence of those they’d placed in positions of power had begun to poison the Dawnfather’s tree, stopping the watchful eyes of the Prime Deities.

The Whispered One had given her knowledge of many forgotten ziggurats but Whitestone seemed the most practical for their purposes. It was isolated, had an almost infinite supply of residuum, and was so easy to just take. She’d destroyed the castle’s teleportation circle immediately once they gained control and set up a vast network of spies throughout Tal’Dorei to keep them informed of the goings on of the world beyond this isolated town.

She saw to the needs of the ritual they would perform when the time came and Sylas saw to both the defenses of their efforts and her needs. He humored her with Cassandra, promising not to feed off of the girl. He forced her to stop and rest when he felt she’d worked herself too hard. He distracted her from the nightmares when they plagued her. She didn’t talk about them. She didn’t need to. He just seemed to know.

He didn’t share in her confliction. He was stronger than she. Or perhaps his morals had simply died with him. He’d argue that she was the stronger one, refusing to bend to the twisted thoughts inside her. Some days she thought he might be right, others she entertained the notion that that which doesn’t bend will inevitably break. Occasionally she’d wonder if she already had.

She never showed her cracks in public. The people of Whitestone needed to see her as unbreakable. They needed to believe that there was nothing they could do to stop her. They needed to believe there was no point in them even trying. Her husband and her army of undead backed her up, quashing every uprising and rebellion that came their way until eventually the townsfolk learned their place.

In the privacy of their bedroom though, she let herself be vulnerable. She let him care for her, let him take control. She let him take the weight of her actions off her shoulders. She gave him everything he demanded of her, submitting to him willingly. He never felt more alive to her than when he claimed her body and she had to admit that his new form came with more than a few perks.

His cold lips pressed against her spine and she felt his fangs gently drag along her shoulder. His hands followed the curve of her waist, warm now from touching her, though they still made her shiver beneath him. He’d had her like that for what felt like hours, lying naked on her stomach, arms stretched above her, legs pressed together between his clothed thighs as he gently caressed her, kissed every inch of her back, teased her with his fangs.

He told her not to move her hands when he’d place them on the bed in front of her and she hadn’t yet. She wanted to. She wanted to take his hands in hers and show him where she needed them. She wanted to wrap her fingers around his length and listen to him gasp in air she knew he didn’t need. But more than that, she wanted to surrender to him. She wanted to let him drive the demons from her mind. She wanted him to remind her she was his, not Vecna’s. She wanted him to make the world outside these four walls cease to exist, if only for a little while. So she waited.

“So good for me my love,” he combed a hand into her long hair, letting his nails drag up the nape of her neck the way he knew she liked. She let out a jagged breath. “Perhaps I should reward you for it, hmmm?” His fingers tightened and he wrapped his lips around the vertebra at the base of her neck, sucking gently. His teeth scraping against skin and bone.

She fisted her hands in the sheets above her head, rolling her hips at his sudden change in pace. His weight on her thighs prevented her from moving much and his hand tightened into a fist, pulling her head to the side sharply. She gasped, her heart rate picking up as heat bloomed in her belly.

“Ah ah, none of that,” he admonished. “Be still for me a little longer darling.” His mouth found where her shoulder met her neck, sharp teeth pressing into her skin, not yet breaking the flesh.

“Please,” she whispered. She wanted the sharp pain of his teeth sinking into the meat of her shoulder. She wanted the heady feeling of her blood flowing into his mouth. She wanted to feel him harden against her, pressing his clothed erection to her bare ass as he drank from her. She wanted the tingling in her veins and the dizziness that often followed.

She didn’t have to ask him twice. He held her head still with the hand in her hair and she cried out as he bit into her. Wetness pooled between her thighs and she couldn’t hold herself still as he fed. Her whimpers filled the room and she ground against him. A broken moan escaped her lips when his other hand snaked under her hips and he pulled her to her knees, her back arched, hands still clenched into the sheets above her head. He  kneaded her breast, teasing an already hardened nipple between his fingers before pinched it sharply.

Her body was on fire. His rough touches sent jolts of electricity to her core. She felt the buzzing in her veins. She wanted, needed. Her heart pounded in her chest and she shivered. A wet trail ran down her leg from her juices and her walls clenched around nothing.

She felt weakened and drawn out when he finished feeding on her. Her strength sapped, her hips dipped back towards the mattress and her eyelids felt heavy. Her body was still on fire though. She was already so close, and he had barely touched her.

Her head spun as he turned her onto her back. She blinked up at him, panting hard, hands still above her head. He hadn’t given her permission to move them and tonight she didn’t feel like being disobedient.

He was still mostly clothed, though his sleeves were rolled up and his shirt was half undone exposing his smooth chest. Seeing him like this, kneeling over her, her blood on his lips, eyes hard and focused on her sent another shiver up her spine.

“Sylas please,” she whispered again. Her voice was so small, pathetic. Far from the commanding presence she had around the castle. She didn’t even try to hide her desperation. She needed his mouth on her. She needed to feel him moving inside her. She let her legs fall open.

He kissed her lips hungrily, not at all careful with his sharp fangs. A hand wrapped loosely around her throat and she whimpered into his mouth. His lips trailed down her body, pausing to pull her nipples into his mouth, sucking on them until she was writhing beneath him. His hand let go as he moved further down her body.

His fangs sank into her thigh and she felt the heady flow of her blood into his mouth again, but this time he didn’t drink from her long. She knew he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t take to much. But he knew she loved the pain of his teeth puncturing her skin. He continued biting into her thighs and licking the wounds closed. His hands holding her legs firmly apart as she tried to buck her hips closer to his mouth.

“Tell me, my love, who do you belong to?”

“I-” she stopped herself. She wasn’t far enough gone yet. She wanted to admit she was Sylas’ but Vecna could be watching. “Please Sylas,” she whined instead. Her skin burned against his icy lips. Her breath dragged raggedly against the back of her throat and she felt like she needed just one touch from him to bring her crashing over the edge.

Finally, he moved over her slit, pausing to catch her gaze before tasting her. He was as enthusiastic sucking her clit and lapping at her cunt as he was drinking her blood. He kept her thighs in an iron grip to hold her still, stopping her from bucking up against him or pulling away.

She felt like she did when casting her more powerful spells. She felt the energy, the power, build and build inside her, tingling lightning shooting through her veins, pins and needles between her toes. She felt like she might explode at any minute. Her crescendo rose. Her back arched. She couldn’t hold her hands above her head any longer. They came down to fist in Sylas’ hair, holding him where she needed him. Then finally, she snapped. Her release was sudden and hard. Her moans cut off and her eyes squeezed shut.

She waited for the numb heaviness to set in but it didn’t. Sylas hadn’t stopped. He carried her through her orgasm and kept going, alternating between plunging his tongue into her and sucking on her clit. She clawed at his head, whimpering at the overstimulation. Her heels dug into the mattress, trying to pull her away.

He saw to it that her discomfort quickly turned back to pleasure and took her over the edge again, and again, and again. There were benefits to having a partner that didn’t need to breathe.

After the third or fourth orgasm, her body stopped trying to calm itself. Instead the power inside her continued to swell, her walls continued to clench around nothing, reminding her how empty she was. She needed him inside her. She needed to be filled. She needed more than just his talented tongue.

“Fuck me, Sylas,” she gasped.” Please!”

Sylas moaned against her, but didn’t stop what he was doing. His grip tightened and he brought her over one last time before finally letting up.

Her muscles started to relax, some of the tension finally draining from her tightly wound body, though she shook with after shock. Every beat of her heart sent a jolt of pleasure through her.

He took her hands from his hair and pinned them to to mattress beside her head. “I thought I told you to keep these here,” he growled. “Though I suppose I can’t fault you for it.”

She was barely paying attention to what he was saying, desperate to have him inside her, to tighten around his length. She continued asking him to fuck her, begging him even as her muscles relaxed and her body melted into the mattress.

He silenced her with a kiss, her taste on his lips. She hummed into him, letting him claim her mouth. He moved her wrists so they were both firmly held in the same hand, the other snaking down between them to open his trousers. Then suddenly without warning he sheathed himself inside her.

She gasped, not just at the sudden fullness, but at the cold as well. She still wasn’t accustomed to the feel of his frozen cock and she hoped she never would be. The shock of it made her lose her breath every time.

Their first time after he’d been turned, he told her that her heat felt like burning, like sliding into a bath that was slightly too warm. To her he felt frozen and unyielding. Her body stretched around him because he gave her no choice but the cold numbed the burning strain she used to feel when he filled her. It made it easier to take him.

He gave her a minute to adjust before setting a punishing pace. Her eyes fell shut and her neck arched backwards. She moaned as his hand wrapped around it once again.

She let herself just feel, not that she had the strength left to do anything else. Her walls clenched with every heartbeat and every thrust knocked the breath back out of her. She felt herself getting closer again. Her body pulled taut like the string of a viol.

“Fuck darling you feel so good,” he gasped in her ear. His voice sounded rougher than it should. He was breathing hard. Some habits didn’t die with the body.

“Sylas,” she whispered.

He pressed his forehead against hers, “Yes, my love?”

“You,” she breathed out, “I belong to you.”

He growled, pulling his hand from her throat and sliding it between her shoulder blades. He pulled her up onto his lap and held her tightly as he thrust into her. The change in angle pushed her over the edge and she lost herself in the sensations.

Her body clenched tightly, muscles locking in place as she rode the waves that crashed through her veins until a calm washed over her. She vaguely registered Sylas crying out over the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears but it sounded like an echo through a tunnel, miles away.

She came to sprawled on top of his chest, the blankets pulled over her and his voice soothing in her ears. Her pulse continued sending shocks of pleasure through her cunt as her breath struggled to return to normal.

His hand gently stroked her spine as he spoke, telling her she’d done well, that he loved her, that he’d always be there for her. She took a deep breath in and let her eyes fall back shut. Her body felt too heavy to move, her muscles more relaxed than they’d been in a long while.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from the evening’s activities.

She drifted off as he whispered he loved her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.


End file.
